


There will be snow (see chapter 4)

by Lualie



Series: Every silver lining [7]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Bickering, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grumpy Old Men, M/M, They are both terrible terrible, winter antics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-02-17 16:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lualie/pseuds/Lualie
Summary: In Jonathan’s opinion, they could had simply stayed in Gotham, like they always did, and had always been fine with thus far, but as soon as they came back from their aborted night out, Edward had began planning some idealized holiday trip full of… Sightseeing tours, and other activities of the likes.At which point Jonathan felt compelled to see just whatwashis partner actually trying to achieve by dragging him along.With both of their tempers, what couldpossiblygo wrong?





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/gifts).



> Heyyyy this is my secret scriddler gift, or at least part of it! I'm almost done with the second part so!! Enjoy!

It all started at this year’s Winter Gala in Gotham.

“Here, catch the keys! I’ll get the rest.”

Riddler and Scarecrow had worked together on their seasonal _Coup_ this time, or at least agreed to a conniving plan that included both of their individual targets at the _soirée_. 

“Try not to slip and break your neck down the stairs.”

“And spoil you the _honor_ of doing it yourself? I don’t think so.”

… It wasn’t what they had originally planned for.

One jolly morning, it _occurred_ to one of them, namely Edward, that the other might be interested in knowing he had plans that would be taking place at the Gala this year. 

The disheveled doctor looked at him from across the table, loosely holding onto a piece of bread that might have been a toast in a different life, and drawled something along the lines of having a plan of his own targeting the same location.

As ironic as it may sound, the fact that they had lived under the same roof for quite some time didn’t spare them from their respective habits for secrecy. Fortunately, in the end they did come up with something that would work to their mutual benefits but, still.

However, timing was everything in their business, they were beaten to the punch when some unpredictable rookie barged into the ballroom and ruined the upper stage for any other competent rogues attending the event in disguise. 

(and yes, Edward was positive he saw Selina winking at him among the attendees, casually slipping something into her purse… he was also extremely suspicious of whoever was manoeuvring the giant bird contraption on the highest balcony…) 

Edward looked at Jon, who rose an eyebrow at him. _His_ part of the plan didn’t involved making a fuss at all, although he would had been most happy to oblige if presented to the opportunity.

Sure they could had gone under everyone’s noses and claim the spotlight properly while the security was handling the inexperienced fool but, it was rather embarrassing to crash the same event as someone else, especially when the first attempt had been followed by such a humiliating failure. 

In the case of a simultaneous scheme. the best you could hope for was to show up at remotely the same time as the other present rogue, but even that was always an awkward sort of encounter, hence why most of their ‘esteemed colleagues’ and themselves had the decency to organize their calendar as to avoid as many of these situations as possible. (although Jon still seemed to evade the logic of those arrangements) 

It happened constantly, of course, but the outcome of those unwanted encounters widely ranged depending on who was involved… and their internalized degree of pettiness toward one other. (again, refer to a Jonathan Crane as exhibit A of disastrous headbuttings)

But, back to the point.

That night, _instead_ of forgoing with the flashier parts of their joint-plan, and on a completely arbitrary decision, Edward decided that they needed a vacation.

‘They’ as in -Edward-, but it was implicit Jon was intended to tag along.

And that’s how they found themselves far, far away from Gotham. 

“Remind me how you convinced Fries to lend you the keys to this place?”

In Jonathan’s opinion, they could had simply stayed in Gotham, like they always did, and had always been fine with thus far, but as soon as they came back from their aborted night out, Edward had began planning some idealized holiday trip full of… Sightseeing tours, and other activities of the likes.

At which point Jonathan felt compelled to see just what _**was**_ his partner actually trying to achieve by dragging him along.

The place itself was remarkably cozy, for what Jonathan expected of a property owned by Victor Fries. He expected something closer to martial interior design, at best.

He didn’t really buy it.

Edward came back and dropped a bunch of travelling bags onto the floor, huffing contently after the effort. His face was positively beaming under the purple goggles adorning it, his cheeks already flushed from the cold. It appeared he had attempted to minimize the numbers of trips outside by taking as much as his deft criminal hands could carry at once. 

“Well?” he boasted brightly, removing his gloves and layers, but keeping the goggles. “It wasn’t like he was going to use it, was he? Should I remind you, he had plans for New Year’s Eve, and so I offered my house-sitting services.” 

“…Of all the places, I expected you to go for something…” 

The sight of all the snow on the balcony filled Jonathan with the dreadful need to stay indoor. 

He could still feel a fading wetness under his socks from when he inadvertently stepped in a puddle of melted ice.

“Warmer?” Edward cocked a taunting grin. Jon didn’t gratify him with a reaction. Yet.

At last, Edward managed to extract himself from his weather-appropriate clothes, momentarily getting stuck once he remembered the goggles he was still wearing. Under the winter coat was the green holiday sweater he changed into halfway to their destination which he also removed for good measures. Leaving him with nothing but the damp sweatshirt underneath.

... It wasn’t a bad sight.

“As much as I love the idea of a sun resort, there’s only so much my delicate complexion can take again, Jon,” Edward huffed sarcastically. With a sweeping glance, he seemed to be satisfied with the number of bags clogging the hallway. 

“Edward.” Jon blinked slowly, adopting an empathetic pose. “It’s not my fault you fell asleep under the sun.”

“Of course not!” he retorted over his shoulder, currently engrossed with the venture of taking off his boots without vertical support. “Well, some of us weren’t busy doing god-knows-what in a scuba suit, terrorizing the vacationers while I was getting skin cancer.” 

Edward could physically hear the crooked grin on Jonathan’s face at the mention of their last trip together. Nether denying or confirming the accusation. The absolute bastard. 

He pulled the second boot off, leaving it to dry over the heater.

“But you did stay with me afterwards,” Edward conceded, walking back toward him. “An appropriate alibi, to say the least.”

Jonathan continued to observe him, appraising him silently with that bewitching gaze of his. 

“Oh, you know I had nothing to do with those odd incidents at the pool.”

“This.” Edward jabbed two fingers in his chest. Fondly. “This is why we can’t have nice things, Jon.”

“And so, to deter me from causing any incident to ruin your holidays again, you picked the least appealing location I could find myself into?”

“Pffff, _deter you??_ ” Edward scoffed. One finger casually hooked at the hem of his collar and pulling him down toward him. “My dear, I’m not even expecting you to set a foot outside.”

“Then why _here?_ ”

“I’m house-sitting, I’m telling you! Whether you join me in my recreations is completely optional.”

“I’m glad we agree,” the tall man gritted. He was allowing Ed to pull him for the time being. “I had planned to work on my new formula concepts this week.”

The Riddler shrugged casually, pecking his cheek. “I know, I know. Dreadful boogeyman that you are.” Edward finally let go of his shirt, turning to the bags behind them. 

“Now. There’s much to unpack and little daylight left.” He grabbed a selection of bags, heading for the kitchen. “Feel free to go back to your work if you believe it cannot wait any longer.”

“Edward.” 

Jon had not moved until Edward stopped to look at him again. When he did so, Jonathan breathed deeply, straightening his back with a slow awkwardness.

“Let it be known that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.” Jon offered, then looked at the array of bags before him. “And, that any suggestions you might provide for my researches would be most welcomed.”

Edward stared at him a moment, and exhaled sharply. “Noted and acknowledged. Now help me put the groceries away. why won’t you?”

The brilliant man escaped to the kitchen, chased by the ghastly image of the God of Fear smiling upon him.


	2. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why we can't have nice things, Jon. Neither of you can compromise.

Jonathan could hear a percussive sound coming from the bedroom. It didn’t had a rhythm per se, but its remarkable consistency had been hard to ignore for the past hour.

The two first days had gone… surprisingly well, or at least without too many incidents.

_thud_

The first night had been quite pleasant, mostly on the account of Jonathan allowing himself to spend the evening chatting with Edward. Or rather, them both indulging the other with their latest topic of interests and the underlying layers of mutual spite they shared for it. 

The first thing Edward had done when they arrived had been to thoroughly inspect every inches of the condo, making sure it wasn’t bugged in any way. With their instincts reassured, they both eased into conversation smoothly. 

Afterall, one could never be cautious enough in their line of work, even with colleagues you had good relations with. Jon knew Edward would not hesitated if the payoff was worthy of his involvement. 

It was… well. Those moments, those conversations were always worthwhile. Jon simply hadn’t realized it had been a while since they both stopped to enjoy each other’s company.

At some point toward the late afternoon, the master of mysteries was truly _clueless_ as to where he had inadvertently left his glasses earlier (the bedroom, it turned out. It’s always the bedroom), and so had designated Jon to read him the steps of a recipe in the cooking book they found smugly tucked in the living room. 

Upon further inspection, Jon noted that a few pages had been torn off, and rather thoughtlessly at that. But given the kitschy retro aesthetic of the book itself, Jon had a suspicion Edward must had found some incriminating recipes involving spam in any conceivable way. Literally in -any- conceivable way. 

The resulting dish didn’t exactly look like the expected result, but Jon made sure to move the direction of the book away from Edward, just as to avoid the chances of him getting fixated on the alternative outcome. Needless precautions as they both knew Edward would deem it an improvement over the original recipe.

Still.

It had been… pleasant, even fun. Siting from the other side of the counter, instructing the genius with directives he would have to put together in an impromptu game of interpretation. The commands sending him in a flurry of steps around the kitchen, either mumbling or criticizing the choice of words. 

It did spent quite a bit of his creative energy. When Edward finally came to a stop, breathing deeply so to calm himself down, he found Jonathan quietly leaning forward on his elbows, folded hands tucked under his chin. Pale knowing eyes locked onto him with a devouring gaze.

_thud_

Jonathan rubbed the bridge of his crooked nose.

Although they had been without ‘incidents’, they were still…. themselves, and tensions had somewhat escalated due to poor circumstances and their respective tempers. 

Jonathan returned to his work the very next morning-… afternoon, and hence had declined Edward’s invitation to wander out into the cold that day. Something to do about sightseeing the local tourist traps or maybe was it something along the lines of visiting informants in the sector. Whether they were his or Fries’, it seemed to come down to the same thing in his leisure list of nefarious tasks. 

As per their agreement, Edward shrugged and left him to his dark bidings. However when he received a similar response on the second day, his reaction was significantly less agreeable. 

What was it he had in mind…. Skiing? Really?

Jon knew he could get skis on his feet just fine, but his few intimate face-to-face with odd-located trees has taught him that he should never trust these contraptions for an extended period of time. 

“Alright then,” Edward argued insistently. “How about snowboarding? Think of it as a warmup for the next time you’ll somehow fit a horse in one of your schemes.”

“What does this have do to with Horseback riding?” Jon snapped.

“ _Evidently_ , it requires you to use your stabilizers and abdominal core! I’m not exactly sure what strange magic keeps your body from frailing apart, but I’m certain you could excel at it just fine if you put your mind to it!

Jon fixed an unpleasant glare on him. Speaking in that low threatening voice that only seemed to grow in volume the longer you listened to it.

“If I do come with you, which I do not intent to do, I can promise you I will watch you jump out of the ski-lift, by yourself, and I won’t even wave as it carries me back down to the embarking station.” 

“It’s a _terminal_ , Jon. And? So? What else is new!? It wouldn’t kill you to try something new!” Clearly annoyed, Edward shook his head, throwing his hands in exasperation “”

Jon flipped a page. 

_thud_

The heated exchange was left unresolved as Edward was expected elsewhere and already fashionably late enough as it was. 

They had both significantly calmed down by the time Edward came about, much later after the sun had set. 

With his cheeks still red from the cold, Edward found Jon sitting on the same stool as the first night they shared in their temporary abode, the same he had grown accustomed to see him occupy for the following days, as they were both creatures of habits when it came to little things like that. 

The room was quiet, and perhaps brighter than Jonathan would normally prefer. Still, there he was, idly sipping at the brown mug he had also wordlessly chosen as ‘his’ since they arrived. 

Seemingly lost in thought, Jon felt two arms wrap silently around his middle, something warm pressed against the exposed part of his neck. His back slowly draped with a familiar softness he hadn’t realized he had yearned for until that moment.

“Had fun?” Jon asked quietly after the hands that claimed him felt somewhat warmer. He caught himself contemplating every single sensation from the embrace. 

His answer was a muffled grumble, punctuated with a sigh. What Jon had assumed a forehead was replaced by a freckled chin leaning over his shoulder, humming almost contently.

“Riddle me this: I am a man of cold with little to cherish, If I stand in the sun, truly I’ll perish. What am I?” Edward’s voice recited the riddle with a deceiving casualness. 

“Hm. I see we’re taking the gloves off now,” Jon noted sarcastically at the personal jab. 

“Oh no, no.” Edward replied with a smug laugh, his voice a conspiratorial hush against his ear. “ _I’m always wearing gloves._ ” The redhead made a show of inspecting his perfectly manicured hand from over his shoulder. 

Jon scoffed, something like amusement, or weariness, leaning a bit more comfortably against the other man. His fingers ran over the hand still laying over his middle, retracing the shape of an old scar he had grown fond of over their years together.

“It must be why I enjoy seeing you without them, darling.”

Jon saw the dark reflection of his own crooked smile in the window facing them. From the captivated gaze staring back at him over his shoulder, Jon knew Edward had seen it as well.

What started with an exasperated sigh turned into delighted huffs, followed by beloved lips peppering his lean shoulder and neck with a trail of arguments, halting just behind his ear.

“You know I can’t afford to get any frostbites?” he teased, both of his hands covering as much of his torso as they could. “What would I do if you melted at my feet?”

“Unlikely, unless you put your mind to it, hmm?”Jon echoed from earlier, flat-toned, dropping to a low threat. “and we both know what you would do.” Jon rose his mug to take another sip, stopping halfway, adding. “And that would imply you being the sun.”

“Am I not?”

“Would you ever limit yourself to a single star?”

A wicked grin answered him in the frosted glass.

_thud_

“Darling.”

“Mhm?”

They had moved to the bedroom some time after further convincing from Edward. Jonathan obliged the suggestion with acute interest. 

“I wasn’t sure how to say this earlier but, you’re really hot.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Of course. No, I’m serious, you’re literally burning.”

Green eyes stared at him, blinking slowly.

“I don’t know where this is heading, Jonathan Crane, but you either take those implications back, or you’ll get those creeping fingers back in an ice box at the nearest hospital.”

“You caught a cold,” Jon continued, undisturbed. 

“No, I have not.”

“Temperature rising, unfocused eyes, perspiration… ”

“We…. are literally….” Edward groaned in frustration, struggling to keep any trace of wavering out of his tone. “Jon. I spent the whole day outside. Of course I’m going to be exhausted-”

“-Extended exposure to cold and touristic environment-”

“-Gotham had one of the worse case of flu not even a month ago, not to mention the immunity any citizen develops if they manage to live there long enough!” Edward argued, almost harshly. “Do you REALLY think I would catch something as _benign_ as a _common cold_ while on vacation? Of all times???”

“How do you know you didn’t catch it before we left?”

“ _OH_ , That. is. it! Move, I’m taking a shower.” Edward forcibly removed himself from the bed. “You can deal with your own predicament by yourself!”

“Edward”

“ _What?_ ”

Jon shouldn’t had enjoyed the chaos as much as he did. There was something to be said as he contemplated the force to be reckoned with that was his partner, practically fleeing the scene rather than accept the telltale signs of sickness.

“If I’m wrong and you’re in perfect condition tomorrow morning, we can go out and do whatever your heart desires.”

“Oh, _now_ it’s convenient for you to hold this over my head, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Jon shrugged shamelessly. For just a second, he saw the glimpse of his own death in those furious green eyes. “I mean it as a positive suggestion, of course. After all, this could easily turn into a case of Cabin Fever…” he trailed off, glancing carelessly at him.

Edward leaned against the door frame in all his hedonistic glory, crossing his arms. “Oh you would love that, wouldn’t you?” he cocked his head threateningly, bathing in the hungry grin his partner answered with.

Followed a few seconds of cautious eyeing and ominous tension between the two peculiar men, ending with the riddler shaking his head as he turned to the annexed bathroom. “Come and join me in 15 minutes,” he paused, adding casually. “Unless you would _fear_ me acting on those delirious thoughts, hm?” 

And with a charming wink, he closed the door, leaving a musing Jonathan behind.

“Oh, darling. You’d make the experience most enjoyable.”

_**THUD** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could possibly cause that thudding??


	3. Candlelights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny when I had the original idea for that scene, I was just telling my best friend what kind of music I wanted and typed random words into the search bar and- boom. right on the nose. 
> 
> I was not familiar with Johnny Mathis but I am... so happy. Enjoy <3, I hope you like slow dancing <3
> 
> Find me [on my main blog](http://midnightsingvogel.tumblr.com) or on [my writing one!](https://hush-falls-the-evening.tumblr.com)

"Edward." Jonathan called, sliding a tray on the dresser outside of their room. He had tolerated the thuds for over an hour now..

At the sound of muffled groans, the doctor leaned by the closed door, supporting his weight with a hand over his head. He made sure to keep a careful distance from the door itself, least anything was thrown at him with frightening accuracy.

"I won't impede on your privacy unless I find your logic unreasonable, which you are entitled to be-" 

_**THUD** _

A violent impact shook the wall at the level of his head. After a moment of silence, Jon stared at the now undisturbed door with a deadpan weariness. 

"... Let's see,” he continued. “Right now, you are angry that your cold has only worsen for the past two days, giving me reason and taking away your choice to spend your holiday the way you wanted it to be."

There was no sound from the other side. No thudding, no groans. Nothing.

\-------------------------------------------------------

The morning after their amiable deal, Jon woke to an empty bed. 

_He vaguely recalled a feeling of motion, of Edward getting up at some point of the night. He remembered the dampness of his lustrous hair when he returned to him. The breathless his agitation as he laid down._

_The drowsy familiarity compelled Jon to soothe away what he then believed to be a nightmare. Muttering nonsense to the beloved silhouette under his lips, pressing close, and closer, just a breath away, a single dried kiss to his temple as a testament of oblivion._

_Jon's unraveling fingers, seeking his capable palm, clammy and clenched over one of the pillows._

_Wordlessly, Jon lined the back of his hand against it, and closed his eyes to the sound of the other's breathing._

... So, not a nightmare it seemed.

After managing to coordinate his limbs out of the bedroom, Jon found the genius in the living room, wrapped in a-... several heavy blankets. He appeared to be focusing on notes spread across his laps, his green glasses stubbornly sliding down his freckled nose. One of his hands was sticking out of the warm fortress, holding onto an empty mug of what Jon presumed had been hot cocoa. 

Without a word, Jon brushed a feather-light palm over the area where his head should be, sliding down a long arm to pry away the empty mug from the hand clasping it, and headed to the kitchen just as quietly as he came. 

After several minutes of staring at the cupboards blankly, the old doctor joined him on the couch with a refill of cocoa and a cup of coffee for himself. Before Jon managed to even say a word, the soft mount gathered the documents in a neat pile, and bent forward to leave them on the coffee table, turning to him. 

Casually dropping the blanket from over his shoulders, Edward's torso emerged with all the practiced panache of a Greek mythology figure, leaning both of his elbows back over the arm of the couch while two bright green slippers pawed obnoxiously at Jon's leg.

"Well good morning to you too, Edward." Jon threw him a side-long glance before his attention was drawn back to the hot beverages in his hands. Edward extended an imperious hand toward the mug that was obviously his, which Jon handed over a bit awkwardly. The faint ghost of a grateful smile was all that graced him for the gesture. Jon turned to sip at his own drink, a mirrored smirk of his own.

"So," Jon began, tilting his head to stare at the proud man, "have you formulate any plans for today?"

Edward inhaled royally, expending his chest as he practically made a show of stretching. The slippers reached further up over his thigh as he did so.

"You know, I was thinking, maybe a day indoor wouldn't be so bad," Edward stated carelessly.

"Is that so?" Jon rose a brow, cautiously amused.

"Tomorrow," Edward assured. A promising glint in his eyes, a thrilling grin that held no doubts as he rose his chin. "Tomorrow you will come with me, as per your words." He insisted on the last part with a threatening glare, which Jon held with ravenous defiance. "But today? Today, I'm keeping you company until your mythical patience tires out."

The tall man observed him a moment longer, noting the slightest sheen of sweat on Edward's forehead. Jon hummed fondly as the pompous man wiped it with a casual flick, as if this was of no relevance to his decision at all. 

Jon serenely came to the conclusion that he was, frankly, not awake enough to deal his way out of this situation. Not to mention that calling out Edward on his bullshitting, no matter how tempting, would only prompt him to find more quarrelsome ways to regain superficial control over his current condition... An appealing compulsion to prod, most assuredly, but rather unwise at the moment.

...Then again, he had not entirely been joking about that cabin fever scenario...

Jon scoffed and turned back to his coffee, as it was slowly helping with the poor circulation in his fingers.

"Think of it this way." The redhead shrugged, one of his slipper hooking itself under Jon's leg. The nude heel sliding distractedly over it. "You'll get to be my personal pillow for the rest of the day~" Edward chimed cheekily. 

"That hardly means anything," Jon countered, nonplussed. "I'm always your personal pillow."

"And a rather lousy one at that." Edward rubbed his face with a grimace. "I wake up with prints of your sternum all over my cheeks and the distinct impression that I've been sleeping face first into a pile of bristling sticks."

"Well then, I'm glad your impression of me happens to be accurate."

Edward fought to keep a displeased expression, trying to stay dignified for the sake of not getting sidetracked by Jonathan’s particular brand of humor. His sickness, however, had a different plan as a new wave of fever overwhelmed him enough to break through his composure, showing just how miserable he felt.

"I'll be right back," Edward said firmly, leaving the mug on the table while he fully extracted himself from his warm nest, suddenly unbearably hot to him. Jon watched him go, pondering on just what he should do with this situation.

When he returned, the puzzle mastermind invited the old doctor to select a movie they'd watch, as he felt his eyelids growing heavier. His brows furrowing as he visibly attempted to fend off unconsciousness. 

Jonathan hummed, sitting down once he inserted his chosen movie in the DvD player. "I know you're not particularly fond of Misery, so I won't take offence if you get... distracted, through the film."

"... A rather predictable selection, I'll give you that." Edward grimaced tiredly, but welcomed the excuse to lay down when he saw it. 

Jon didn't need to beckon him closer, the feverish man was already making quick work of draping them both with the extra covers and mismatching blankets, covering them somewhat efficiently. Jon felt more like a bed frame than an active participant of the embrace. 

Edward grumbled against him. "Why must you choose that movie every time I get under the weather?"

"I believe in your ability to get on top of anything, darling." Jon said in his hair, poorly trying to navigate through the DVD's menu. "And I'm wondering if the possibility of having me as your live-in nurse can prompt you to get back faster on your feet."

Edward pulled away to stare at him in playful condescension. "Are you threatening me, Jonathan Crane?"

"Am I never?"

For as much as he liked to rant about how uncomfortable Jonathan's wiry body was, the redhead slept on him long and hard, pressed up against his chest. Jon watched the movie on mute, mostly reading the subtitles from the film commentaries when he wasn’t distracted by how Edward’s facial fats gathered in a boyish way whenever he changed position. 

Edward was only awaken later by Jon, who escaped long enough to retrieve a book, cold medicine, and a glass of water. And then again a few more times to make sure he ate something. 

As the medication seemed a lot more potent on Edward than expected, the redhead slept for most of the day and night, dutifully reminded by Jon how much time had passed every time he came back to consciousness. The older man watched as Edward's frustration only increased as more symptoms appeared. 

After the fever came the congestion and the coughing... If earlier he could pretend that his so-called immune system could deal with the virus in record times, it was now clear that there would be no way around it.

What was first frustration became irritability, which paired mighty well with a sense of creeping suspicion, only met by Jonathan's amusement.

As he groggily peered at his surroundings through unfocused eyes, Edward must had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't, in any way, be able to forego his plans for the week.

It felt very likely that his entire holiday would be ruined, thanks to one ill-timed cold.

Much later that night, hazy green eyes hid nothing of his yet-unspoken accusations.

"You know..." Edward trailed off, tracing shapes on Jon's chest. "It is awfully convenient that I find myself sick after I've planned all of this for us."

Jon didn't even put down his book as he answered. "Have you been sick? I though you were merely indulging me of your company today."

"It is also," Edward continued, narrowing his attention on Jonathan's face. "Awfully convenient that you haven't displayed any similar symptoms yet, in spite of our proximity."

Jon stilled for a moment, reading him with a neutral expression. "I have not sabotaged you, Edward. Although I've entertained the thought. Believe me, it hardly does any good to my ribcage. However-" he pressed, rising his voice as to cut the next forthcoming accusation. "-You know I can't afford to be sick at my age. It's not my fault you were too busy to get a flu shot this year."

"Is that what the good Dr. Elliot told you?" the Riddler asked with open contempt, only half listening as he pushed his face back into the chest below. The old man winced.

"Well it ought to be, otherwise I'd be as miserable as you are right now."

"I'm not miserable," Edward mumbled miserably. 

"Ah yes, my mistake. You're usually a lot more vocal when it comes to your health." 

As they moved back to their bedroom, the following morning seemed hardly better on Edward, who elected to stay the day in bed.

There wasn’t anything Jon could actually do to help, aside the necessities, and by the way Edward told him to shut the door behind him, he had a feeling he might as well get some work done while he had the chance to do so.

Jon wasn’t sure when it began. The thuddings. He had lost track of time when he finally pull his head up, noticing the sunlight outside quickly diminishing. 

Edward must had woken up, he thought. Or maybe he had been awake for a while, bored to death. Possibly sulking. Definitively sulking.

As the concussive sound didn’t seem to stop, Jon took it upon his thinning patience to finally check on his partner, who was indeed in a state of utter boredom, leisurely taking all the bed for himself. Some kind of neon green tennis ball in his hand.

“Was that you trying to get my attention?”

Edward sneered with an apathetic sniff, ignoring how it whistled as he did so. There was a wetness in his voice, giving his confidence a whinny undertone. “Hardly. I’m merely testing how good my aim has gotten since the last time.”

“For what purpose?” Jon blinked slowly.

“Never underestimate the value of a good aim.”

Jon thought of reminding him of who had won the last game of throwing darts they had together, but figured he should keep that topic for a better occasion. 

“And how long are you planning those tests?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know.” Edward threw the ball and caught it swiftly. “How long will you be working on yours?

“Well. I had my watch set for another hour but I might just have to extend it to a few more.”

“Oh really now?” Edward feigned disinterest, purposefully demonstrating the perfectly calculated trajectory of his pitch as the ball bounced and landed right next to him on the bed. He picked it up and inspected it closely. “Don’t let me keep you away, then. I’ll see how many bounces the ball can make to still retain enough force to knock out someone.”

“I reckon a straight shot to the face would be quicker.”

“Now Jon, I love your crooked nose very much. But me and my vanity wouldn’t stand to make you handsomer than myself out of misguided aggression. Not when a single, well-calculated blow could make you drop down with minimal harm.“

"Theoretically. And not if you knock yourself out in the process.” Jon briefly caught the glare thrown at his direction before he closed the door. He smiled as he heard a muffled litany of swears from the other side of the door.

This altercation served nothing, seeing how Edward barely stopped for 15 minutes before picking up where he had left. With renewed vigour it seemed. 

and so, here was Jonathan Crane, several hours later. Unable to enter the bedroom as the persistent sound had made itself sparse, but seldom stopped. 

And oddly determined to hit the walls at the level of where his head should be. Hmm.

Jon waited a few more breaths. It was dead quiet as neither side of the door moved. As silently as his spindly bones could be, Jonathan reached for the knob. His fingers practically feeling the familiar cold radiating from the metal as he wrapped his hand around it.

An irritating ping from his right stopped him just as his index touched the handle. There on the dresser sat his phone, which he had somehow completely forgot about for the past couple of days. He wasn’t close enough to read the text from where he stood, but he had little doubts as of who could had so conveniently left it there.

He stared wearily at the door for a little longer until an exasperated sigh found its way out of his chest. He walked to the dresser, picking up the device as he adjusted his glasses.

_Knock Knock_

There was a small icon of a baseball bat next to the words. Jon rolled his eyes, but did not comment out loud, not yet. He frowned as he tried to figure what his next move should be. Or just how to interpret this. For all he knew, maybe Edward had rigged the bedroom out of sheer boredom. He wasn’t sure HOW, but he knew the man could be terrifyingly productive with the proper kind of restless energy.

Going back to the couch felt like a lot less hassle.

Short on words he-… well, that was an idea. Worth a try, at least..

Jonathan peered at the small icons at the bottom of his digital keyboard, selecting something that looked like what he hoped to be food. Wait. No. That was a… hot spring? He grimaced. He had to stop reading in dark rooms, his sight was failing him.

There was a light thud again on the wall. A good three feet to his left. Jon had the distinct impression it served as a taunt of sort.

There. He pressed the sent icon a bit awkwardly, sending what he hoped was the symbol of a meal.

He stood still for longer than he realized. The corridor outside of their bedroom was dimly lit, and so the phone produced a beam of light that nearly blinded him. Jonathan wasn’t looking at the screen though. He had his attention fixed on a point beyond the wall, just as he had a feeling the ill genius on the other side was also listening closely.

At last, the phone pinged once more. Edward’s reply consisting of nothing but an “ok” hand symbol, joined thumb and index. Hm. Stalemate, possibly. For now.

He’ll leave the food on the dresser, let him get to it on his own. For as much as he mused over the potential of a horror movie scenario, being taken out by an impromptu deathtrap would just take the fun out of it.

Still. Perhaps there was something he could do to smooth out the situation.

—————————————————————-

By some miracle, Edward had fallen asleep in spite of his last wave of fever. And he would had remained asleep for a few more hours if his phone hadn’t lit up directly in his face, green light stabbing him with the notification of a new message.

Groaning displeasingly, his blurry eyes stared blindly at the screen as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

… candle?

Another ping.

… Several candles

It was finally then that he heard it.

There were the rumours of a distant tune playing from beyond the bedroom. If he had to take a guess, Edward presumed it came from the living room… Which was… probably where Jonathan was…

Jonathan….

He rubbed his face over his aching sinuses, attempting to alleviate the pressure underneath. Now that he was sitting, he could feel the air wheeze through his nostrils again, somewhat. From the dried friction in his throat, it was safe to presume his charming voice would croak pitiful sounds if he attempted to speak in the near future, which had contributed to dampen his mood considerably earlier.

The foul taste of his last cold medication wasn’t as revolting as the rampant heaviness that came over him as he sat by the edge of the mattress, staring at the shape of his legs against the near darkness of the room.

They were very good legs, he reminded himself. His eyes followed where the lines of muscles and fats should and shouldn’t be, pondering on how they must had looked in his last ‘Riddler’ outfit. It didn’t improved his mood by much, but it did pull a yearning smile out of his current gloom.

Still, there was music, and quite a lovely sound at that. This would have to be sufficient distraction for now.

He went to fetch his wayward slippers, a warm blanket tightly wrapped around his shoulders. He tip-toed his way to the door. 

_Chances are, ‘cause I wear that silly grin_  
_the moment you come into view;_  
_chances are you think that I’m in love with you._

Edward shouldn’t had allowed a song to distract him as much as it just did, the moment he opened the door. He had a sense he heard it before, and from the quiet scratching under the notes, it seemed it was playing from a turntable.

No, what Edward should had noticed first, were the candles.

How did Jonathan find that many candles in the first place… If Edward wasn’t so intrigued by the peculiarity of the scene, he would had made a point of reminding the old bird how much of a fire hazard this presentation was.

Carefully, he followed the candles. They seemed to know the way.

_Just because my composure sort-of slips_  
_the moment that your lips meet mine,_  
_chances are you think my heart’s your Valentine._

Knowing Jonathan Crane, Edward might had just walked into a spiderweb, for all this was worth. He might be a master escapist but this better not-…

… How much time did he spent on this…

As he came at the threshold of the living room, he noticed the room was lit with nothing but candles. A lot of them, of various shapes and sizes. It painted a soft eerie glow over the room, adding shadows where there were none prior. This was… Very Him, in an endearing way. 

This only rose more questions, but none of them came forth as Edward laid his eyes on the lithe silhouette facing away from him.

Edward held his breath.

Two spindly hands seemed to inspect the jacket of a vinyl disk. In front of him hummed languorously an old turntable Edward had never seen in this house. It played the same crooning song that lured him out of the bedroom.

With great care, Jonathan leaned the jacket against the device. His left hand drummed lightly on the table in that mesmerizing grace of his, before smoothing itself flat against the surface, almost caressing it. 

_Guess you feel you’ll always be_  
_the one and only one for me_  
_and if you think you could,_  
_well, chances are your chances are awfully good!_  
_The chances are your chances are awfully good!_

As the song ended, Jonathan’s hand went to lift the headshell away from the disk. With the same attention to details, the uncanny man flipped the disk over, resetting the stylus to start at the beginning.

Only then did Jon turned back to him. The candlelight gave unreadable edges to his face.

He leaned back against the furniture, arms crossed.

“Hello Edward.”

God, this is how he was going to die.

“Hey…” Edward rasped. Very eloquent, Edward. He tried to clear his throat. “You know, somehow I always knew I would end up a human sacrifice.”

Jon did not respond, but tilted his head curiously. The thin lines of his lips stretched slightly as he peered at the ill man.

“How so?”

“Obviously I’m far too valuable for the common mortals. Anyone with an ounce of wit would know I would be the perfect offering for their hypothetical worships.”

As Edward began rambling, he could see the slow blinking of Jon’s piercing eyes, until a brief chuckle rattled his shoulders. The tall man pushed himself upright, stepping carefully over some candles in his way.

“I think the grandiosity of your ego will never cease to amaze me.”

Some of the furniture had been pushed away from the center of the room, leaving a wide space surrounded by burning lights. It seemed obvious to Edward that this appeared foreboding to a sinister fate. Well….. it WAS Jonathan…

Jon stood in the middle of the makeshift circle.

“I cannot say whether this will be your true fate or not in the future, but for now I find myself in lack of a partner, and i was hoping you could join me for a few dances.”

Oh.

He just had to go extra mile about it, didn’t he?

That rude… outrageous… manipulative… brilliant fright of a man…

Jonathan extended his hand, beckoning the redhead to join him. 

In all these dramatics, Edward couldn’t decide whether to qualify his unsettling smile as adoring or pure unadulterated sadism.

Well…. That summed up their relationship well, in a way.

Edward walked past the candles, ignoring the offered hand. He gestured at Jon to raise his other arm so the feverish man could wrap his own around the sinuous torso, burying his forehead there with a heavy sigh that felt like a surrender.

Jon seemed to hesitate before lowering his arms around his shoulders, reluctantly mellowing in the embrace. One of his wonderful hand found its way into his hair, where it kneaded at the scalp underneath.

Edward could not see his face, but he didn’t need to. Jonathan began to hum along the music, only missing a few notes to trail his lips over the top of his head, inhaling deeply as he did so.

They didn’t dance, but Edward could feel them sway softly along the lulling haze of the song. Edward spoke quietly, “I didn’t think you were the Johnny Mathis type.”

“I looked around the condo while you were gone. I wonder if they had the nuclear war in mind when they built this place.”

“So you’ve found the hidden vault.” Edward concluded, ridiculously pleased with how Jonathan shrugged above him.

“If you call it a vault, rather closer to an impractical pantry. I was bored. Productivity decreases after a few hours of ongoing work.”

“I’m going to accept this as your way of saying you wished you had joined me when you had the chance.”

Edward could imagine him rolling his eyes. Still, it was hardly as satisfactory as the way his hair rose with a ghostly touch of his hand at the base of his neck.

“My proposition still stands,” he murmured with measured fondness. “I’m all yours once you get back to your unstoppable, boastful self.”

To that, Edward said nothing. For now, he was enjoying the way Jonathan cupped his head almost tenderly with both hands. Tilting it to press slow and reverend kisses down the side of his face, turning it further the lower he went.

Edward came very close to whining at the sensation. He might had done so when the tall man reached the softness of his neck, mouthing secrets no one would ever know, not even him.

Edward thought of Gustav Klimt. Him and his lover in a passionate embrace, and felt his face burn from how much the thought appealed to him.

All too soon, Jonathan pulled away from the soft groove of flesh and moved to hold his head upright. Edward managed not to protest and cracked an eye open to look back at him.

The candlelight reflected in his eyes an unusual warmth.

“What was it about human sacrifice you were talking about?” Jon asked after a moment, his voice soothing.

Edward sighed loudly, “I’ve had fevers all day, give me a break,” the genius grumbled. 

Edward had no objections when Jonathan brought him back to his chest once more. He could practically feel him smirk as he lowered his lips to his ear.

“Does this mean you haven’t rigged the bedroom into a deathtrap?”

“Why on…… Oh. Oh, why didn’t I think of that…”

“Hm. Well. Glad I could inspire you Now let’s see…” he added without missing a beat. “Let me think which overrated writer I could desecrate with a death like yours...” Jonathan trailed off with wistful jest.

“Oh you wouldn’t dare!” Edward scoffed, although he was glad Jon could not see how foolish he smiled. “Your intellectual pride would not allow it.”

“That is true. But I’m sure I could find it in my heart to make an exception for one who deserves it.”

Edward laughed into the tall man’s shirt. “Wouldn’t a sacrifice defeats the purpose of sullying their fame?”

“Hmmmm possibly. I have no clue how this works. Maybe I’ll try to bribe Banshee into telling me more about this procedure.”

They shifted softly. It felt warm but not uncomfortably so. Edward laughed in the back of his throat.

“You know, considering her nature, I doubt she would be the agreeable kind if you asked her about it.”

“Very likely. I do need to stay alive for as long as possible in order to complete my work.”

Edward distractedly traced a finger along the tall man’s spine.

“I’d much rather live as well. I have much yet to do, and hopefully I can teach a thing or two to those who deserve my wisdom.”

“If they survive.”

“Well yes that is a given of course. High rewards only come from high stakes, my dear.”

Jonathan’s chest shook a bit. The old doctor was probably sneering at his success rate. Before Edward could raise a question, he felt Jonathan resume his earlier work on the side of his face, tugging at his guts with every slow devouring kiss he pressed on his way down.

The music strung him along quite deliciously. He almost had to remember to breathe as chills ran through him.

“Well since we’re both aiming to live long and nefarious lives, I’ll see what I can do to help you keep up with me on your never ending journey to enlighten the world.”

Edward managed to scoff in irony. “Ah yes. Your invaluable counsel. As for keeping up, I recall a certain someone spraining their ankle right in the middle of a heist.”

Jonathan paused his ministration to drum his nails unnervingly, but said nothing.

“And who didn’t peep a word of it until we got back to the safehouse, at which point it had doubled in size. How you managed to walk on it at all is still beyond me, let alone carry supplies. You’re very lucky a certain resourceful genius was there or else-

“-Yes, yes. I am very lucky.” Jon interrupted abruptly. Edward felt the ghost of teeth against his skin. He bit his lips smugly at the childish victory. 

They floated in silence a moment, waiting to see who would talk first.

_It's not for me to say, you love me_  
_It's not for me to say, you'll always care_  
_Oh, but here for the moment, I can hold you fast_  
_And press your lips to mine, and dream that love will last_

“Very lucky.” A voice said. It might had been Jonathan, but oh how low and warm and ghastly it tingled his ear, it could had been a hallucination. 

But it was enough.

Edward pulled the tormenting lips to his, and everything melted in the soft glow of this very moment.

“I hope you catch it.” Edward whispered delectably between two breaths. He did not bother to register Jon’s expression as he moved to claim him once more.

_As far as I can see, this is heaven_  
_And speaking just for me, it's ours to share_  
_Perhaps the glow of love will grow with every passing day_  
_Or we may never meet again, but then it's not for me to say_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank my best friend for reading all of that nonsense and encouraging me. Not that he'll read it now that it's posted online, that bastard
> 
> The two songs I used in this fic were [Chances are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEH3uqbpsm8) and [It's not for me to say](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3QENGRc0F4) from Johnny Mathis. 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this, thank you for reading <3<3<3


End file.
